


dear shakespeare

by Mukunee



Category: The Prom - Sklar/Beguelin/Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/F, Hurt No Comfort, Inspired by Romeo and Juliet, Internalized Homophobia, This is pure angst, nothing happy abou it, sorry gays, the story and the song lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-25 03:39:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17113760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mukunee/pseuds/Mukunee
Summary: 'cuz that's the sound of people falling out of love.-or-in which alyssa and emma rekindle a relationship only one of them wants





	dear shakespeare

**Author's Note:**

> hewwo!!  
> this was a big fat vent (as is everything i fucking write lol) basically, listened to romeo and juliet by hobo johnson and got all sad and fricked up and then i thought: emma/alyssa but in romeo and juliet. and yeah! i didnt mean for this to turn out so completely angsty but the heart wants what she wants lmao. hope you enjoy! i plan on continuing, but who knows how things will go lol

For all the years Alyssa’s mom spent warning her about the Nolan’s, about their daughter and what she could do to her if she wasn’t careful, she really should have listened.

But no. Alyssa Greene didn’t listen, not whenever it counted, and so here she was, locking lips with the demon girl herself in some tiny closet during some shitty party, panting and breathless. Hands traveling lower and lower, fingers digging into scalps, things that should not have been grabbed being grabbed- no one caring if it was right or wrong. The moment feels endless. Alyssa wishes it had been. It’s over too soon, Emma should have stayed in there with her longer, should have whispered more sweet nothings in her ears, should have done something to keep her calm.

Alyssa isn’t as strong as Emma likes to think she is. The moment she steps foot out of that closet, she shrinks into herself. Every eye feels judging, every look scalds her skin until she’s sure she’s burnt to a crisp. Her mother asks her if she was alright, and all Alyssa can do is nod her head and scurry off to get some fresh air.

She never comes back inside. She just sits outside, trying to forget about everything, doing everything possible to cast that stupid fucking Emma Nolan out of her head. Needless to say, it doesn’t work. Even after the party, after she was all warm in her posh bed, the kiss is the only thought in her mind. It frightens the hell out of her. Alyssa has to be straight (it doesn’t matter if she actually is or not). There is no ‘if’s’ or ‘buts’ about it. She just has to be, end of story.

Alyssa doesn’t sleep that night.

The two girls had been childhood friends, the kind that had to be sneaked into each other’s bedrooms under the cloak of midnight, when all prying eyes were shut tight. Alyssa couldn’t remember how or why they met, but whatever the reason, they were inseparable. Looking back on it, Alyssa wasn’t sure if it was a friendship based on any genuine feelings, or if it was born out of necessity. Alyssa needed some sense of freedom, a change, a rebellion; Emma needed companionship, validation, protection. 

They decided not to speak anymore at the end of sophomore year. Alyssa’s mom didn’t want them to be seen together, not after she found out Emma’s dirty secret (or when she caught Alyssa coming home later than her curfew with a pretty little hickey on her neck), and Alyssa agreed with her in a weird way. Before Emma came along, Alyssa was inflexibly straight. She must have been some bad influence, some sort of curse placed upon her, a temptation in the Garden of Eden. She used the excuse of her mom when she told Emma the bad news. Emma didn’t say much, just nodded and told her to have a nice life. It hurt more than Alyssa thought it would have.

Alyssa doesn’t think about Emma that often. Whether it’s a defense or signs of heterosexual progress, she’s not sure. She goes four years without getting worked up over her again, graduates from high school and moves on to some pristine college. She’s back in sophomore year by the time her mom gets engaged to one of her new boyfriends, by the time she’s flown home to attend the party the entire town is invited to.

Emma’s parents make her go, she later learns in a, briefly PG, catch-up session. She doesn’t want to talk to her any longer, but she’s powerless to stop her as she grabs her wrist and tugs her into the nearest closet. Alyssa isn’t sure if Emma chooses that one on purpose. It’s the one they used to hide in as kids. Even though they were home alone, even though it was three in the morning, Alyssa wouldn’t let Emma do anything to her unless they were safely tucked away. This is the closet where they decided to find out what kissing felt like in the eighth grade (a practice kiss so they know what they’re doing when they get boyfriends, alyssa remembers emma telling her). She wonders if Emma remembers it too.

“It’s more private in here.” She explains, watching as Alyssa leans against the wall. “Your mom would be pissed if she saw me talking to you.” Alyssa is told how Emma’s parents kicked her out mid-junior year, how her mom was against it, how their eventual divorce was brought on because of it. “She’s a fuckin’ jesus freak, right? I’m pretty sure I’ve heard her cuss my mom out at church. Cuz’ of the split, ‘n stuff.”

Alyssa nods, keenly aware of the way Emma’s lips jutted out in a pout. “She doesn’t know you’re gay, right?”

“I’m not.” She says, because she isn’t. “Look, if this is about all the things we did in high school-” Emma shakes her head and apologizes. She shouldn’t have assumed, shouldn’t have brought it up, but Alyssa can tell she doesn’t mean a single fucking word of the shit she’s spewing.

If she did, she wouldn’t be drawing closer the way she was, wouldn’t be brushing up against her, wouldn’t be pressing her into the wall and closing the gap between them. Alyssa wants to push her away, to burst out of the closet and scream to everyone who would listen about what Emma tried to do to her, but again, she can’t. Instead she kisses her back.

Emma slips her number into her pocket before leaving. Her fingers curl around the paper, threatening to crush and tear. They stay like this until she’s back in her room, alone and safe once more. She fishes the note out, reads it once, and tears it to shreds.

Alyssa doesn’t sleep that night. She’s too busy crying, too worried about what that kiss means, about how she has no way to hide from it.


End file.
